Let's Get Tony Post Hiatus version
by Tweeter
Summary: This story has been rewritten to accomodate events in Hiatus 1 & 2. Please see Author's Notes for further details. A routine mission to South America finds Tony in peril. CHAPTERS 6 & 7 ARE UP. COMPLETE!
1. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer:_ The characters from NCIS belong to Bellisarius Productions and Paramount. This story is for entertainment purposes only, no copyright infringement is intended, no money is being made. The original characters belong to me.

A/N: In January of 2006 I wrote a story called "Let's Get Tony." After the end of Season Three, people began speculating how Gibbs would return to NCIS (because we all know he's going to). I thought, "Damn, 'Let's Get Tony' is the perfect scenario for Gibbs' return, I wish I'd written it later." Then I decided to rewrite it. For those of you who read the original story, please don't feel cheated. Once you get past the first two chapters, which had some minor changes, I think there's enough new material to make it seem like a new story. As a matter of fact, everything from Chapter Three on is new.

Additional A/N and thanks: Spanish is indicated by italics. The Hebrew is not in italics, but the translation directly following is. Confusing enough? Many thanks to ZivaFan for the Hebrew translation. The spelling may not be quite right, but it's phonetically correct. Thank you to ResearchGeek for some very helpful suggestions and a line or two of dialogue, And last, but definitely not least, thank you to my beta Rinne, who is still my punctuation goddess and who checked my story even though she has a lumpy head.

With that explanation, if you still want to read the story, we'll continue on to…

**Let's Get Tony, Post-Hiatus version**

**Chapter One:**

It was supposed to be a simple operation: go to Paraguay to pick up a corporal who had run, trying to escape being arrested for being a drug mule. Special Agents Anthony DiNozzo and Timothy McGee were sent to the South American country to pick up the recalcitrant young man and bring him back to the States for prosecution. But things went horribly wrong as the two agents were ambushed.

McGee looked pale over the transmission appearing on the plasma screen in MTAC. His head was bandaged and he sounded hoarse.

"I'm sorry, Director," he apologized. "We never heard them coming. Everything happened so fast; when I woke up, Corporal Pearson was dead and Tony was missing. I can't even tell you what happened."

"It's not your fault, Agent McGee," replied Director Jen Sheppard. "Are you sure you're okay?"

McGee nodded, then winced. "The doctors said the bullet hit at just the right angle to be deflected by the skull. I don't know why they didn't kill me, or why they took Tony."

"They probably thought you were dead, head wounds tend to bleed a lot," Officer Ziva David spoke up. "Maybe they wanted to get information from Tony, or sell him to the black market."

"Black market?" McGee looked puzzled.

"There's a huge market for human 'goods' McGee," explained Sheppard. "DiNozzo's a young man, strong, healthy, attractive. Gender doesn't matter." She stopped there, letting the information sink in. McGee's expression changed from questioning, to aware to horrified.

"I'm coming down," declared Ziva.

Sheppard turned to confront her. "You are not going down. Special Agent McGee is returning to NCIS as soon as he's declared fit to travel."

Furious, Ziva turned to the Director. "We can't just leave Tony down there. We don't know what's going to happen to him."

"There's every reason to believe that DiNozzo is dead, Officer David," declared Sheppard firmly. "If those men had the guts to shoot a Federal Agent and leave him for dead, they most likely killed DiNozzo or they've already sold him and he's in a pipeline to some other country. We'll never be able to track him down."

"So you're not even going to try?" Ziva asked, outraged.

"I will not risk more personnel for one agent. I'll make some calls, but that's the best that I can do," Sheppard replied. "I have other agents to consider, the entire agency is my responsibility."

Ziva's eyes narrowed. "I am not one of your agents," she said, pulling out her badge. "I am separating myself from your agency, as of now." The young woman handed her badge to the startled director, turned and left the room.

"Ziva," Sheppard called after the retreating figure. "You can't do that. Your father will be furious." The sound of the door slamming was the only reply she received.

* * *

Abby Sciuto sat on a stool in her lab, watching Ziva pace around angrily. Doctor Donald Mallard was standing off to the side, his expression concerned. 

"She's just going to give up on Tony," fumed Ziva. "She's not even going to try to find him, like he's just an expendable piece of a game."

"What are we going to do?" asked Abby.

"I'm going down there," declared Ziva, firmly. "I'm going to make a few calls, call in some favors, then I'm going to go down there and bring Tony home."

"You're going to Mexico first, aren't you?" Ducky stated softly.

Ziva stopped pacing and faced the two. "Yes. I am," she replied.

Ducky nodded. "He'll want to know, he'll want to be involved," he said.

Abby nodded. "Tony's special to Gibbs," she agreed. "It's like a Master/Grasshopper thing. He's gonna go ballistic when he finds out what happened, and that the Director didn't do anything to help Tony."

"I'm going with you," declared Ducky. "Tony may require medical attention."

"Ducky," replied Ziva, "this is going to be rough travel. I'm not sure you'll be able to…"

"I've trekked through the jungles of Africa and the rainforests of South America," interrupted the indignant ME. "I've camped out in the jungles of Malaysia with the natives. I'm perfectly capable of keeping up with you and Gibbs, and if Tony is injured, he will most likely need immediate care. It won't do for you to find him and then have him die."

Ziva narrowed her eyes, staring the determined older man in the eyes. Finally she nodded and turned to Abby.

"Abby, can you contact McGee? Tell him not to follow the Director's orders to return to NCIS."

"How's he going to do that? He's never refused a direct order."

"Tell him what we're planning on doing, that we'll need his help. He'll want to do this, for Tony," replied Ziva.

"I want to come too," Abby said plaintively.

Ziva faced Abby and placed her hands on her shoulders, looking into the young woman's eyes, "We need someone here, Abby," she said firmly, "someone to help with travel arrangements and to be our ears in NCIS."

Abby pouted, but reluctantly agreed.

"Someone's got to say it,." Ducky's voice was solemn. The two women looked at him inquiringly. "What if Tony _is_ dead?"

"Then we bring him home," replied Ziva, "so we can mourn him properly."

The three sat in silence for a moment, each considering the possibility of the death of their teammate, team _leader_, and friend.

Standing abruptly, Ziva said, "I have to make some calls," and left the lab. On the way back to the squad room she ran into Director Sheppard.

"Ziva," Jen stopped the younger woman with a touch on the arm. "I've sent word down to the local CIA office, to see if they can find out anything about DiNozzo. I'm afraid that's the best I can do."

"Thank you, Director," Ziva replied coolly. "I'm still going down there."

"Ziva..."

"You can't change my mind on this, Jen," interrupted Ziva. "I owe it to Tony to try to do everything I can to help him. Your hands are tied, officially. Mine are not."

"I can't send anyone to help you, no personnel, no weapons, no money... nothing," warned Sheppard.

"Understood."


	2. Chapter 2

_Disclaimer:_ The characters from NCIS belong to Bellisarius Productions and Paramount. This story is for entertainment purposes only, no copyright infringement is intended, no money is being made. The original characters belong to me.

Chapter Two 

This was like something out of a movie, Tony DiNizzo thought to himself. A very bad movie and he was the unnamed extra who ended up getting killed before the second act. The red-shirt on Star Trek.

It had been two days since he and McGee were surprised by five gun-wielding, masked men. McGee had gone down almost immediately. Tony closed his eyes, not wanting to believe that the younger agent was dead. Tony had pushed their prisoner to the ground and tried to get to McGee when he was shot in the shoulder. As he lay on the ground, stunned, he was struck by a rifle butt. The next thing he knew, he was in the back of a sleek car, tied up like a Thanksgiving turkey, his shoulder throbbing, feeling like it was on fire. There was no sign of McGee or Pearson.

The men that had taken him looked like they were auditioning for _Men In Black 3_; they wore black suits and stylish sunglasses. When Tony tried to say something, he was abruptly gagged and shoved further into the back seat. They drove for what seemed like hours, until they came to a crossroads out in the countryside. Waiting for them was a scruffy crew of men, heavily armed with what looked like contraband weapons. After some spirited haggling, Tony found himself being dragged out of the car and handed over to the leader of the other group. The sedan headed back toward the city, leaving the hapless agent in the hands of the rebels.

"_He's pretty!_"said one soldier, putting his hand under Tony's chin and examining his face. "_Maybe we could keep him as a mascot?_"

Another man scoffed, "_You need a woman, Manuel, you're ready to hump anything right now!_"

The other men started examining Tony, causing him to struggle, despite the disadvantage of being tied up. The leader of the group fired a gun into the air, freezing all action.

"_Enough!_" he yelled. "_We take him back to camp, rest up for a few days, then go to the coast. We can sell him for more weapons._"

Manuel looked hopeful. "_Can we have some fun with him first?_"The other men snickered.

The leader looked disgusted. "_No. We can get a better price if he's a virgin._"

Another man spoke up. "_How do we know he is?_"

"_They can test him when we get to the coast. At least we can assure them that we didn't touch him._"

Tony sighed inwardly in relief. He was afraid he was going to be used as an outlet for sexual frustration, and that definitely was not something he wanted to experience.

The ropes and gag were removed and his arms were pulled behind him, his hands bound tightly. A rope was looped around his neck. The leader put his face five inches from Tony's and said, in thick-accented English, "You will not fight us or you will get hurt very bad." To prove his point he backhanded the bound agent, causing Tony's head to snap back and splitting his lip.

Okay. This was not good. Tony shook his head slightly until it cleared. One of the men picked up the rope that was looped around Tony's neck and started walking, leaving Tony no choice but to follow meekly.

After a few miles, Tony's head was pounding, his shoulder was on fire, and he was burning up. His mouth was dry and he found himself stumbling along, unable to walk straight.

"Can I have some water?" he called out to his captors. He didn't want them to know he could speak and understand Spanish; he needed some advantage.

The group stopped and talked amongst themselves. One man brought a canteen over to Tony and let him drink a mouthful of water.

"May I have some more?"

His request was answered by a fist to the stomach, causing him to vomit the water he had just consumed and eliciting laughter from the other men. Tony had fallen to his knees when he was punched and now the rope around his neck was pulled as the group started walking again. Unable to pull himself up onto his feet, Tony found himself being dragged for several feet, the rope tightening around his neck until he couldn't breathe.

"_What are you doing?_"exclaimed the leader angrily. "_We need him alive, you idiot! The traders will not pay for a corpse._"

He bent down and loosened the rope; Tony lay on his back, gasping for air, his head spinning. Rough hands yanked him up to his feet and he was pulled down the rutted track, stumbling occasionally. Finally, unable to stand up straight, Tony fell to the ground, his eyes closed in pain, perspiration soaking his clothing. The wound on his shoulder was bleeding again, staining his shirt a dark brownish red.

"_We'll rest for an hour,_"declared the leader. "_Raul, clean his wound and give him some water. He's no good to us if he dies out here._"

Swimming in a haze of pain, Tony felt himself being turned over, his shirt pulled away from the bloody wound in his shoulder. He moaned in pain and tried to move away as rough hands prodded the bullet wound. A cry was torn from him as some whiskey was poured on the open wound and he slipped into oblivion, not feeling the rough ministrations of his 'nurse' as his shoulder was re-bandaged.

_"The bullet will have to come out,"_ said Raul. _"I can do that at camp."_

After an hour of restless sleep, Tony was slapped awake and pulled to his feet. He stood there, swaying slightly, as his captors prepared to continue their trek.

Tony walked on in a daze, his feet sometimes catching on a stone, sending him stumbling. He fell several times, adding scrapes and bruises to his growing catalog of injuries.

The group eventually came into a clearing, where a camp had been set up. The men in the camp greeted the travelers like long-lost friends. Tony was pulled to the center of the camp, his legs were struck from behind and he landed hard on his knees. The leader came up and pushed Tony's head down, forcing his forehead to the ground.

"You stay down until we move you," he growled. "You don't try to get up or I let Manuel have his way with you."

Even though Tony knew the man wouldn't let his "merchandise" be damaged, he stayed still. It seemed the guerrilla was determined to keep Tony's honor intact, but had no problem with inflicting pain in other ways.

Tony managed to find a comfortable position, grateful that he was a bit more flexible than he thought. He closed his eyes and tried to let his mind drift, but he couldn't calm his fears. He hoped someone was looking for him, but he was afraid that no one would know where to start.

He sent up a brief prayer for his rescue and McGee's well-being. Taking in a shaky breath, he drifted off into a troubled sleep.

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­


	3. Chapter 3

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­Chapter Three

The sun was high, beating down relentlessly on the rickety dock. Waves of heat rose from the golden sand, creating a shimmering haze. The water lapped lazily against the wooden structure. Former Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs sat in an old chair, a fishing pole balanced loosely between his legs. He knew he wasn't going to catch anything, but felt stupid just sitting there.

It had been three months since the incident with the Cape Fear. He could still feel the anger and frustration at the senseless deaths of the crew of the ship and the unfortunate Navy personnel of the boarding party. The feelings were dulled as time went by, however, and his decision to leave NCIS was looking more and more like a knee-jerk reaction. He was tired of walking along the beach, fishing, and hanging out with Mike Franks.

Gibbs snorted. Franks, now there was a burn-out. The man drank like a fish, smoked like a chimney and went after the pretty young women in the cantina like DiNozzo went after the women in the secretarial pool, but with less success. When Gibbs had first seen his former mentor again, the pain of Shannon and Kelly's deaths was fresh and raw. He saw Franks through those eyes, remembering the way the older agent had taught him how to investigate crime scenes. As Gibbs' memory returned, he no longer saw Franks through rose-colored glasses. Yes, he understood the emotions that caused the other man to quit and run off to Mexico, but even though he had acted on those same emotions, Gibbs couldn't keep from thinking about what was happening back home.

Home. Maybe that was the difference between Gibbs and his former mentor. Franks had no one back in the States. He had left with no thought whatsoever to the team he left behind. He had no ties. Gibbs had ties that he was just starting to appreciate. His team was his family, and he had left them behind with just a few words and without a backward glance.

He trusted the team in Tony's hands. The younger agent was intelligent, more than capable to lead a team. He might lose some of his playfulness, but Tony had always felt a sense of responsibility toward his teammates, leading them shouldn't make that much of a difference, at least he hoped not. Gibbs hated the thought of the younger man becoming cynical before his time. Tony had shown signs of a less than perfect childhood, but had always been able to hide the pain with a cocky grin and playful attitude. The team needed that as much as they needed his leadership.

"Are the fish biting?"

Gibbs jumped, turning to face the voice, shading his eyes from the blazing sun.

"David?" he asked in amazement. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"You're getting slow, Jethro," replied Ziva, "you didn't even hear me coming."

"I'm retired," grumbled Gibbs, "I don't have to be careful anymore."

Ziva sat down on the dock, letting her feet dangle in the water. Her long dark hair was pulled away from her face, tied loosely in the back. She wore loose clothing and dark glasses.

"What are you doing here?" repeated Gibbs.

"Nice to see you too, Gibbs," replied Ziva. "Aren't you going to offer me one?" she indicated a tub filled with ice, holding some bottles of beer.

Gibbs snagged a bottle, opened it and handed it to her. "Well?"

"I'm calling in that favor."

Gibbs regarded her through narrowed eyes. "What's wrong?" he asked.

"It's Tony."

"Is he in trouble?" Gibbs felt his pulse quicken.

Ziva took a swig of beer before answering. "Tony's been captured by persons unknown." She stared out over the water.

"What happened?"

"He and McGee went down to Paraguay to retrieve a prisoner. They were ambushed, McGee was shot and Tony disappeared, presumably taken hostage by the attackers."

"McGee?"

"Alive" Ziva replied shortly. "His head was grazed by a bullet and they left him for dead. They killed the prisoner and took Tony with them."

"The rescue mission?"

"The Director decided against it. She said it wasn't worth risking more agents for just one. She thinks Tony's probably dead already. Or worse."

Gibbs leaned forward, his eyes cold. "She refused to go after him?"

Ziva turned to face him. "She refused to send anyone. She called the local CIA officials, to see if they could locate Tony, but that's all she could do. You know how long these things take between agencies, so I resigned my post…"

"And decided to put together a rescue mission of your own," finished Gibbs.

Ziva nodded. "I need your help," she said. "Tony needs your help."

Gibbs stared at her for a moment, his sharp blue eyes examining her face for any sign of emotion. "You know he's still alive?" he asked.

"As of yesterday, yes," she replied. "I have a friend, also Mossad, stationed in the area. He's monitoring Al Qaida activity in the area. He owes me a favor." She took another swig of beer before continuing. "He managed to track down the men who took Tony. He's trailing them for us, we'll join up with him and plan a way to get Tony out of there alive."

Gibbs stood, holding a hand out to Ziva to help her stand. "Let's go back to the house," he said gruffly, "you'll get heatstroke."

"I'm Israeli," scoffed Ziva, "I'm used to hot, dry climates. Part of our team is waiting at the house anyway."

"Who's that?"

"Ducky."

Gibbs looked at her in surprise. "Ducky? What's he going to do?"

Ziva shrugged. "He insisted on coming along, in case Tony needs medical attention. I couldn't say no."

Gibbs laughed. "I bet. Who else is on this 'team' of yours?"

"Just you, me, Ducky and McGee," replied Ziva. "And my friend, of course," she added.

"That's not much of a team," observed Gibbs.

"Between you, me and Eitan, we have a pretty strong group. Ducky's medical skill will come in handy. McGee," Ziva shrugged, "normally he would be good backup. I'm hoping that the head injury didn't affect his vision or anything like that. It wouldn't be right to leave him out of this anyway."

As the two approached the house they were greeting by a beaming Medical Examiner.

"Jethro!" exclaimed Ducky, drawing the other man into a hug. "You are the picture of good health, my friend. Although, I must warn you to wear more sunscreen."

"It's good to see you, too, Ducky," replied Gibbs, returning the hug warmly.

The three went into the house, the main room cooled by large ceiling fan whirring lazily. Gibbs retrieved more beer from the cooler and motioned the other two to sit at the small table.

"How have things been, up until this latest incident?" he inquired.

"Things have been going swimmingly, Jethro," replied Ducky. "Tony is an excellent leader, you trained him well."

Ziva concurred, "I admit, I was surprised at the way Tony slipped into the team leader role with no problem. He constantly refers to you and your rules, but throws in a few of his own. Some of his are a bit frivolous," she said, smiling, "but I think that's his way of showing us that the old Tony is still around, and to watch our backs, or we'll end up with a 'kick me' sign taped to it."

"I never realized how intuitive he is," she continued. "He must have shown that side of himself to you more often."

Gibbs nodded. "I knew he was ready for the lead. I was worried that he was being overshadowed by me, but it's good to see he's grown into his own role as Senior Agent."

"Of course, he misses you, Jethro," Ducky said. "As we all do, very much. Abby is still playing dirges, Tony's the only one who can get a true smile out of her. She's scared to death that we've lost him."

"Tell me what happened," Gibbs said, grimly.

"It was supposed to be a simple assignment," replied Ziva. "Corporal Walter Pearson was acting as a donkey for drug runners..."

"Mule," corrected Gibbs.

"Yes, yes, mule," Ziva waved him off. "He was involved in a bar fight in a town in Paraguay, the local authorities arrested him and contacted the Navy. Tony and McGee were just supposed to go down and pick him up, then bring him back home to stand trial. McGee isn't sure what happened, he must have been hit in the first part of the attack. When he woke up, Pearson was dead and Tony was missing."

"And the Director decided that Tony was probably dead, so she wouldn't put together a team to find him?" asked Gibbs.

Ziva nodded. "I don't understand her attitude," she said. "She's been very supportive of him, she seems pleased with the way he's leading the team. But she won't do much to save him, or to find out if he's still alive. I had to go through unofficial channels."

"That's good work, Ziva," Gibbs said. "We need to go, as soon as possible. Do you have transportation arranged?"

"Abby's got a transport for us, waiting to take us to a small airstrip. From there, we'll hike to a rendezvous point, where we'll meet up with Eitan Singer, my friend from Mossad. We can leave as soon as you're ready."

Gibbs stood. "I'm ready now. I'll just throw some things in a bag and leave a note for Mike. Do you have weapons arranged?"

Ziva nodded. "We're fully armed."

"Let's go."


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

The air was sluggish and humid as a storm threatened to break. Tony lay on the ground, sweating profusely from the heat and the fever he was developing. He was roused from his restless sleep by hands rolling him roughly onto his back. He opened his eyes in panic, struggling against the hands holding him down. His shirt was once more torn open and the bloody bandages were removed from his shoulder.

"What are you doing?"

Raul approached the agent, a large knife in his hand. _"Hold him still,"_ he said roughly. _"Hernandez will have my head if I accidentally kill him."_

Tony screamed in pain as the large man dug into his shoulder, searching for the bullet that was lodged there. Raul continued to probe, oblivious to the cries from his 'patient'. The other man watched and laughed at the suffering inflicted upon the helpless agent. Finally, Raul loosened the muscle that surrounded the bullet. He reached in with his fingers and tried to grasp the object, but it was slick with blood and he was unable to get a firm grip on it. Swearing to himself, he took the knife and tried to pry the bullet from its resting place.

Tony's eyes rolled back in his head as he started to slip into oblivion. Once more, Raul reached into the hole he had created in Tony's shoulder and managed to pull the bullet out. He then poured some whiskey into the open wound, eliciting a low moan from the semi-conscious man. Raul replaced the rough bandaging to the wound and left the agent lying on the ground.

* * *

Less than twelve hours after Gibbs was visited by his former team in Mexico, he, Ziva, Ducky and a pale, bandaged McGee were meeting in a hangar on a small airstrip in Paraguay. A map was spread out on a table and the four were bent over it, discussing their plans to rescue one of their own. 

"Eitan said the 'banditos' are camped here." Ziva pointed to a spot on the map five kilometers away. "He'll meet us in the clearing over here," she said, pointing to another spot. "We should get there by nightfall. He'll brief us on the situation."

Gibbs was checking the weapons McGee had secured for them, pleased that the young agent, foreseeing every possibility, had assembled a wide variety of arms from handguns to a grenade launcher. He had also gathered together basic medical supplies for Ducky, who was inspecting the medical kit approvingly.

"Excellent work, Timothy," said Ducky, patting McGee on the shoulder. "I should be able to stabilize Tony's condition, if need be, with no problem."

"This is an impressive array of weapons you have here," agreed Gibbs. "With strategic placement of personnel we should be able to overwhelm the captors and get Tony out."

Ziva looked concerned. "We may have to carry him out, or at the very least, support him."

"We'll manage," replied Gibbs, grimly.

"Timothy has procured a portable stretcher for us," said Ducky. "It will make carrying him much easier."

"What do you need me to do, Boss... I mean, Gibbs?" asked McGee, expectantly.

Gibbs smiled at the slip of the tongue. "I need you to stay here and have the pilot ready to take off the minute we get here. We might be pursued, we'll need to move fast."

McGee's face fell. "I was hoping to help in the actual rescue," he said, hesitantly.

"You're still not 100 percent," replied Gibbs. "I don't want you having a dizzy spell and getting yourself, or someone else, killed." Smiling to soften his words, he put his hand on McGee's shoulder. "You've pulled together some vital resources for us, Tim. The chances of a successful mission are higher because of that. We need you to be ready for the final step. Can you do that?"

Nodding, McGee said, "I can do that. I just..." He hesitated before continuing, "I just need to see Tony alive."

"We all do, Tim," replied Gibbs. He swung the strap of a rifle over his shoulder and turned toward Ziva.

"You know what you need to do?" he said to the deceptively petite woman.

Ziva tested the weight of one of the automatic rifles, hefting it in her hands. She looked up at Gibbs and said, "I'm prepared to do whatever it takes to get Tony out of there alive." Her mouth curved into a cruel smile, her eyes bright with anticipation.

Gibbs nodded curtly. Making sure Ducky had the supplies he needed, he headed to the woods. "We'll test the communications once we're out of sight," he called back to McGee.

Once they were in the trees, Gibbs put his hand to the comlink at his throat. "McGee, can you hear me?"

"Loud and clear," McGee's voice crackled over the earpiece. Gibbs looked over at Ziva and Ducky, both of whom indicated that their communications devices were working as well.

The three set off for the rendezvous point at a brisk pace.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

Making good time, Gibbs, Ziva and Ducky entered the clearing where a tall, dark-haired man was waiting, reclining against his pack, apparently napping.

"Eitan," called Ziva. The man in question stood up and stretched, making his six foot frame look even taller.

"Ziva," he said with a smile, bowing slightly. "At niret tov, karagil." _You look good, as usual._

"Toda," she replied, kissing him on both cheeks. She motioned toward the two men with her. "This is Leroy Jethro Gibbs and Doctor Ducky Mallard."

Eitan extended his hand. "I've heard about you two," he said with an easy smile. "It's a pleasure to finally match the faces to the stories."

Gibbs eyed the other man speculatively as he shook his hand. There was something familiar about the man, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it.

"Ziva seems to have kept you a secret," said Ducky, jovially. "Our young friend is a woman of mystery."

Ziva laughed. "It's not a secret, Ducky," she said, "just not something I talk about."

"Hmmmm." Ducky looked amused.

"How far are we from the camp?" Gibbs asked.

"Ahhh, straight to business," Eitan said, laughing, "I like that. We're about three kilometers north. They've settled down for the night."

"How can you tell?"

Eitan shrugged. "They're sitting around drinking and eating, playing cards, and amusing themselves in other ways."

Gibbs didn't like the sound of that. "Is DiNozzo still alive?"

"Yes," the other man said, nodding. "I'm afraid he's in pretty bad shape. He must have been shot in the initial attack. It appeared as if they were removing a bullet or some other object from his shoulder. It sounded quite painful."

"Oh dear," Ducky said softly. "I'm afraid my services will be needed, after all."

"Can you show us the layout of their camp?" Gibbs asked.

"Of course." Eitan bent down and began drawing in the dirt.

"There are two crude shelters, here and here. I'm assuming that's where they store their ammunition and other items. The men are scattered around in the open, here, here and here." Eitan sketched x's and boxes in the appropriate places. "Your man is here, not quite in the middle of the camp, but not somewhere where we can sneak in and grab him without being seen."

"I must tell you," continued the Mossad agent, his expression grave, "I've been watching your agent as closely as possible. He looks very ill. It's quite possible he could have died while I was waiting for you to arrive."

"He's not dead," Gibbs replied firmly. "I'd know if he was."

Eitan looked at Ziva, who shrugged and smiled at her friend. "You'll have to trust Gibbs' gut. It's never wrong."

Accepting her answer, Eitan flashed Gibbs a cocky grin. "Do you have a plan for this daring rescue?"

At that moment a loud thunderclap startled the four people, a few large drops of rain came down, striking Ziva in the forehead.

"Keep the weapons dry," yelled Gibbs, as he pulled out a tarp from his pack. Following his lead, the others pulled out tarps and fashioned two makeshift shelters, Ziva and Gibbs in one, Eitan and Ducky in the other.

Gibbs and Ziva sat in silence, waiting for the rain to stop.

"How close a friend is this Singer guy?" asked Gibbs.

"Close enough," replied Ziva. "I trust him."

"Hmmm." Gibbs nodded. "You go on any missions with him?"

"A few."

They were silent for a moment.

"Are you worried?" Ziva's voice was so soft Gibbs could barely hear it over the sound of the pouring rain.

"About what, exactly?" he replied. "About whether or not Tony is still alive? Will we be able to get him out of there? If we can get him out of there, will we be able to get him serious medical attention?"

"All of that," she said.

"Yes," Gibbs said, curtly. The two sat and watched the rain for a few minutes longer.

"Were you happy in Mexico?"

Gibbs sighed. "I wasn't looking for 'happiness'," he said. "I just needed to get away, to sort things out. To mourn... again."

Ziva nodded. "It must have been hard, having to relive the deaths of your wife and daughter."

"The pain never really went away," Gibbs said softly. "I buried it, hid it away, but it was always there. Waking up and thinking it had just happened..." his voice trailed off.

"Have you remembered more of your life?" Ziva asked.

Gibbs nodded. "I also remembered why I do what I do, why I'm... why I was a Special Agent."

"You want to come back, don't you?"

Gibbs ran his hand over his face. "What I want, is to get Tony's ass out of that place and get him home safe."

"He won't mind being your senior field agent again, Gibbs," Ziva said. "He misses you, we all miss you."

Gibbs shook his head. "Tony deserves to lead the team. He is good, isn't he?"

Ziva nodded. "Very good. He's like you, but not like you at the same time." She flailed her hands in frustration. "I'm not saying this right, I know. You can tell he learned from the best, but he brings his own special twist to things."

Ziva laughed softly. "It's funny. I feel more at home at NCIS than I do with my own people at Mossad."

"It's that Italian charm," Gibbs said dryly.

Ziva snorted. "It must be."

"Did you sleep with Singer?" Gibbs asked abruptly.

"What? Gibbs!" exclaimed Ziva indignantly. "That's none of your business... what if I did?"

Gibbs snapped his fingers. "I got it! He reminds me of Tony. Something about him, the way he carries himself, the way he acts."

Ziva looked thoughtful. "Now that you mention it, there is some similarity. But there's a major difference."

"What's that?"

"Eitan is a player. He has women all over the world and he loves all of them very much, when he's with them. Tony talks big, he dates a lot, but deep down he's looking for someone special, someone he can settle down with. Remember how disappointed he was when he found out Monica was married? He thought she could be 'the one'. Eitan will never stay with one woman, in one place."

Gibbs agreed, "Yeah, Tony likes to put on a good show, but it's all smoke and mirrors." The two sat in companionable silence as the rain started to ease up. When it finally stopped, the four regrouped to plan the rescue.

"Singer," said Gibbs, "do you know how to shoot a grenade launcher?"


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

Tony lay in the middle of a puddle, pelted by torrents of rain. The storm had come up quickly, scattering the men into the shelters and putting out the fires. No one had bothered to drag the bound agent out of the rain, leaving him lying in the middle of the camp.

Well, at least he felt cooler. Of course, now he'd probably develop pneumonia or some tropical disease and cough himself to death. That is if his shoulder wound didn't fester into a mess of pustulent putriditude. Tony wondered if that was even a word. Ducky would know, probably Palmer, too. Abby would definitely know, that sort of gross stuff was right up her alley. He was going to miss Abby. Abby was fun and sweet, but tough as nails.

He was going to miss all of them. Their team had become a little family, an unusual and sometimes dysfunctional family, but then aren't most of them like that? His biological family wasn't exactly a perfect 50's sitcom. Maybe that's why he loved shows like Ozzie and Harriet and Father Knows Best. Oh, and the Donna Reed Show. Donna Reed was a real beauty, and she baked. Tony's mother never baked. The cook baked. The cook cooked. The cook looked nothing like Donna Reed, more like Aunt Bea. That was okay, though, because she acted like Aunt Bea, slipping Tony cookies and treats and letting him hang out in her kitchen.

"I must be delirious," mumbled Tony, relieved to see the storm break. He tried to maneuver himself out of the puddle, but didn't have the strength. Resigned, he lay his head down, grateful that the water wasn't too deep. The storm had blown in cooler air and Tony was starting to feel its effects, alternating sweating profusely and shivering uncontrollably.

The men had come out from the shelters and were trying to find dry wood to start the fires again when suddenly one of the shelters exploded, debris showering down on the startled men. Gunfire came from behind the trees, sending the men scattering. A canister landed in the middle of the camp, bursting in a shower of flame and smoke, the smoke spreading along the ground.

Tony felt himself being grabbed and dragged along the ground. He tried to struggle, but was too weak. His face was splashed with mud and water, blinding him. He could hear the men yelling, the gunfire and the sound of the ammunition exploding in the shelters. One of the men dragging him tripped and fell.

"Bloody hell!"

Ducky? Tony knew he was delirious.

"Are you okay?"

And Ziva? Maybe he was dead.

Tony felt someone wipe the mud from his face, clearing his eyes. He blinked to try to focus and saw the concerned faces of his two friends.

"Tony, can you hear me?" Ziva asked anxiously.

"Ziva?" His voice was hoarse and weak, but it was enough to make the young woman smile brightly. "Ducky? Am I dreaming?"

"No, Anthony," exclaimed Ducky, "unless we're having concurrent dreams. I once visited a village in the hills of Nepal…"

"Not now, Ducky," interrupted Ziva. "Tony, do you think you can walk if we help you?" she asked, as she untied the injured agent.

"I don't know," replied Tony, weakly. "I'll try. I'm not feeling too good…"

"Yes, you appear to have an infection, you're feverish. It's all right, Anthony, we'll help you. We'll carry you, if need be."

"We have to keep moving," said Ziva, urgently. "Gibbs and Eitan won't be able to pin the bandits down in one place for long."

"Gibbs?" Tony was starting to feel as if he was in the Twilight Zone. He expected to see Rod Serling step out from behind a tree and start introducing an episode about alternate realities.

"Come on," urged Ziva, as she pulled him to his feet. She slid his arm over her shoulders, taking on some of his weight while Ducky went to Tony's other side and did the same. The three headed through the woods, leaving the sound of gunfire and explosions behind them.

They were joined by two men covered in braches and leaves, their faces brown with mud.

"Let me take him," Gibbs said to Ziva, "cover our backs." He slid in Ziva's place while she grabbed his automatic rifle and dropped back.

"Gibbs?" Tony looked at the face of his former boss, not daring to believe his eyes.

"Yeah, DiNozzo," grinned Gibbs, "it's me. You sure do get in a lot of trouble."

"Sorry, Boss." Tony couldn't keep the grin from his face.

"Come on." Gibbs pulled him along, Ducky still on Tony's other side. "You can explain what happened to me later."

The small group moved as quickly as possible, trying to reach the airfield before the armed bandits caught up to them. Tony was breathing hard, barely able to keep on his feet. His shoulder had opened up again and was bleeding freely.

"We've got to stop the bleeding," Ducky said.

"We're almost there." Gibbs kept moving. "We can't stop now, they're close."

"Jethro, he could bleed to death in our arms," exclaimed the older man. Before Gibbs could say anything, Tony lost consciousness, his dead weight more than Ducky could hold, and fell to the ground.

Gibbs and Ducky knelt down next to the fallen agent. Tony's face was deep red and he was gasping for air.

"Do what you can, Duck," Gibbs said. "I'll buy us some time." Grabbing a rifle, he ran back in the direction they came from. "Ziva, go up and help Ducky. Singer, go with her."

"What are you going to do?" asked Ziva.

"Cut the head off."

Nodding, Ziva and Eitan ran to help Ducky.

Crouching down behind a fallen tree, Gibbs took a sight out of his pack and affixed it to his rifle. Laying the barrel of the rifle against the tree, he looked through the sight, waiting until he saw his target, the leader of the group. Carefully taking aim, Gibbs pulled the trigger, hitting the large man in the middle of the forehead as he was yelling orders to his men. Stunned, they looked around. There was no nearby cover from which the shot could have come. Carefully, Gibbs took aim again, taking another man down with deadly precision.

_"It's a sniper,"_ yelled one of the men. _"He'll pick us off one by one…"_ Panic stricken, the remaining bandits turned and ran away.

Gibbs rejoined his team. "How is he?" he asked anxiously.

"I've managed to stop the bleeding, but he's running a fever and his breathing is compromised," replied Ducky. "We've got to get him to the airfield so I can start an IV and oxygen and give him some antibiotics. But he needs to be in hospital, quickly."

"Where's the portable stretcher?"

"Here." Ziva had assembled the device. They secured Tony to the stretcher and took off at a fast pace.

McGee ran to join them as soon as they broke from the cover of the trees. "Is he okay?" he yelled anxiously, looking down at the bedraggled form of his friend.

"He's alive," replied Gibbs.

Once on the plane, Ducky started an IV and administered oxygen and antibiotics to the injured agent.

Ziva and Eitan sat out of the way, conversing softly in Hebrew. The young woman kept glancing worriedly at the doctor administering aid to Tony.

"Niree shebeemet Echpat lach mimeno" said Eitan, eyebrow raised. _It looks like you really care for him._

"Who chaver tov sheli," replied Ziva._ He's a good friend of mine._

"Tov Kamoni?" Eitan grinned at her. _As good as I am?_

Ziva looked at him and smiled, "Ktzat acheret, aval ken tov kamocha," she replied, swatting him lightly on the arm. _A little different, but yes, as good as you are._

"Ani sameach sheyesh lach misheho sheat yechola lismoch alav," Eitan said seriously. "Daagti lach sham sheat mokefet beanashim zarim." _I'm glad you have someone you can trust... ... I was worried about you (over there) surrounded by strangers_

"Hem lo zarim," she said, "Hem chaverim." _They're not strangers, they're friends._

Eitan nodded.

"Hishtaveno, Eitan. Ata lo chayav li yoter shum davar," Ziva said. _We're even, Eitan. You don't owe me anything anymore._

"Ze lo meshane, at tamid yechula likro li." _You can always call on me._

Ziva smiled and kissed Eitan softly on the cheek. She stood and went over to stand beside Gibbs as Ducky adjusted the oxygen mask over Tony's face. The younger agent's face was flushed and his breathing was labored.

"Will he make it, Duck?" Gibbs asked.

"Time will tell, Jethro," replied Ducky, gravely. "Anthony's a healthy young man, but he's been through a great deal these past few days. The only thing we can do now is get him to a hospital, and pray."


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

Tony was in intensive care at a hospital at the nearest Navy facility for five days, fighting off the effects of the infection his wound had developed. He was severely dehydrated and malnourished as well, slowing his recovery. On the sixth day, he woke up to find his teammates and former boss sleeping in various uncomfortable positions in chairs next to his bed.

Gibbs was first to notice that the younger agent was awake. He stood and walked to the side of the bed.

"You back with us, DiNozzo?" he asked gruffly.

Tony nodded, too tired to say anything, a ghost of a smile forming.

"Good. I wouldn't have been too happy if I had to come all this way just to have you die in a nice warm hospital bed once we got you back." Gibbs' smile took the sting out of his words.

Tony cleared his throat. "You came for me?"

Gibbs shrugged. "I couldn't let Ziva have all the fun, could I?"

Tony laughed softly.

"Of course I came for you," Gibbs said, looking his former protégé in the eye. "You didn't believe otherwise, did you?"

"I didn't think you'd even know."

"You didn't think we'd leave you out there, did you?" Ziva came up behind Gibbs, followed by Ducky and McGee.

Tony looked at the three faces, seeing the obvious concern of his teammates. No, not just his teammates. His Team.

Tony looked at McGee. "I was afraid you were dead. It's good to see I was wrong."

Ziva laughed. "Keep that in your memory book, McGee, Tony admitting he's wrong."

McGee laughed. "Yeah, Tony, all your teasing hardened me, the bullet bounced off my skull." He turned serious. "I'm glad you're okay, Tony."

"Enough of the mushy stuff," interrupted Gibbs. "Tony needs his rest, we've got to fly back to DC."

"Do we even have jobs to fly back to?" asked McGee.

"What?" Tony looked from McGee to Ziva to Gibbs in confusion. Gibbs just smiled.

* * *

"Tony!" squealed Abby, running to meet the stretcher as it was carried from the airplane. She gave him a careful hug, kissing him on the cheek. "I was so worried about you. Don't you ever do that again!"

"Sorry, Abs," apologized Tony, smiling at her beaming face.

"Gibbs!" she yelled, jumping on the laughing older man. "I'm so happy to see you! I knew you'd get Tony back safe."

"Thanks, Abby," said Ziva, coming up from behind.

Hugging Ziva, Abby started babbling, "Oh, I knew you'd be able to do it too, but I just knew that Gibbs wouldn't be able to sit by and leave Tony's rescue up to you. And then when McGee called and told me everything was okay… who's Eitan?"

"I'll tell you later," Ziva laughed.

"Eitan?" Tony looked at her curiously.

"I _might_ tell you," teased Ziva.

"Did you guys hear?" asked Abby.

"Hear what?" McGee looked at her curiously.

"Director Sheppard resigned!"

"What?"

Abby nodded. "She was taken down several pegs because of her reluctance to help. It lost her a lot in the respect department, and there aren't a lot of agents who trust her now. Even the other directors give her the evil eye. She basically had no choice. She hasn't been replaced yet, but last I heard, they're approaching Director Morrow to see if he'll come back, even if it's just on an interim basis." Abby's tone was gleeful.

"Wow," McGee looked shocked, "that's really… something."

They reached the ambulance that was transporting Tony to Bethesda. Gibbs climbed in with him.

Tony looked at the older man. "Are you glad to be back?" he asked.

"It's good to be back in the States, yes," Gibbs nodded.

"Are you coming back to NCIS?"

"I am."

"You'll be leading the team again?"

Gibbs shook his head. "The team's yours, Tony. I knew you were ready to take over, and from what I've heard, you've done a good job. You deserve it."

"What are you going to do?"

"Well," replied Gibbs, "Tom's asked me to work as a consultant. I'll be working on anti-terrorism cases, and I'll occasionally work with your team… strictly as a consultant, of course, you'll be the boss."

"I'll be your boss?" Tony grinned happily.

"No, you'll be the boss of your team, I'll be your consultant," corrected Gibbs.

"But we'll work together again," Tony said.

"We'll work together again," confirmed Gibbs.

"Good."

Gibbs grinned at the younger man. "Yeah. It's all good."

Fin


End file.
